#if it sucks hit the mask tool

[starsapphire]

world's finest (2022) #17

[hellisharchive]

Adam with a bimbo s/o? I know it's not much to go off of but I'm a huge fangirl of your writing and I think you could do so well with this prompt! Have fun!!!

﹒﹒﹒dumb bitch

➤ Everyone knows you weren't the sharpest tool in the shed, you were pretty but dumb, you were always kind to everyone though. You somehow got the attention of the first man who didn't care how kind you were- he just wanted a good fuck

➤ 18+, sexual remarks, implied sex

➤ Adam x Bimbo!reader

➤ Hi yes this took literally 2 months I'm sorry I suck at requests in a managable time 😭😭😭

Adam first saw you and he immediately knew he wanted to fuck. I mean, you were HOT. So of course he hit his shot, he was the first man, Adam! Who wouldn't want the original dick?.

So, he shamelessly went up to you and flirted, causing you to blush and become flustered. You didn't know what he looked like under that mask but his voice was hot. He said he wanted to bring you to his room, what for? You weren't sure. But he he was cute, so you agreed.

He noticed that you weren't the smartest and you asked if you were going to watch movies or something, totally not understanding that he wanted to get freaky, and he sighed internally. He got a dumb bitch, didn't he? At least it'll make it easier for him to fuck you silly.

You laughed at his every joke even if they didn't hit as you walked towards his place, it was in the center of Heaven! How'd he manage that? That was only where the highest non human angels lived! You asked him and he sighed interally again before answering. "I'm the first mortal soul here Babe, I got the best of the best".

You both finally made it to his place and you just stared in awe at how pretty it was before oh! He started kissing you! That was unexpected, but you couldn't help but kiss back. Was this why he wanted to take you back? Not to watch movies? Things started to escalate and he dragged you into his bedroom where he shut the door.

Two weeks later, you two fucked regularly, Adam only saw you as a fuck buddy, but you considered it to be a relationship without even him knowing. So you always told people he was your boyfriend and when he finally found out, oh he was PISSED.

You were shocked when he said you two weren't dating, but how? You were together! You were fucking! You liked him! You started to cry because it hurt and he quickly shushed you, trying to calm you down but you kept sobbing.

He thought of something that normally he wouldn't agree to, but he- for some reason- felt terrible for making you cry. He told you that you can officially start dating and you squealed in delight and hugged him. Right after he felt like he was making a huge mistake, but couldn't help it when he felt his heart skip a beat when you hugged him. Oh no, was he forming feelings for you too?

Three months later and the relationship actually was pretty nice, Lute gave him hard shit at first but eventually ended up being fond over you- protective even. He doesn't do "romance" so he had to always get advice on what to do, but he was actually pretty happy with you. It shocked him, but you were such a pure soul he was almost thankful he agreed.

You were as happy as can be and on your first official date, you finally got to watch movies with him. Now every few dates, he always watches the newest movies that come out just to make you happy, he loves to see you smile.

[ghouldtime]

*slides into the DMS*

S O. What does social anxiety for König look like through your fantastic characterization then? 👀

(Love your Alone operator series btw. Got me on the edge of my seat with each chapter!!)

(Thank you!! 💚💚💚 I'm so glad you're enjoying :D you all have been so so sweet with it and Im over the MOON so many people have liked it)

To answer this question I'm going to have to be a biiig yapper and explain why I think of him the way I do

Going to say this to start, but I'm going with the true fact that König is indeed diagnosed with social anxiety - anything else I'm saying is based off of my personal interpretation of how he acts in game as a disclaimer

I'm also going to state that personally, the König I write is in his lower to mid 40's. Sorry not sorry, I don't see him as a young dude. Especially not when it's pretty much agreed upon that he's a colonel. So he's had a SIGNIFICANT amount of life experience, and a significant amount of time to work on himself and have introspection.

To me, it makes the most sense that he was diagnosed with social anxiety earlier on in his childhood since it was significantly more obvious when he was younger. Something that severe wasn't unnoticed by those around him because some of them did care about him. It's also stated he's suffered from severe social anxiety throughout his life so that's how I took it.

I personally go with he grew up in a more rural town in his homeland of Austria, which meant there weren't exactly others around during the first few years. "Go play with the neighbors kids" didn't really work when there weren't neighbors around. It was mainly him and his parents and an occasional relative over.

What could be brushed off as initial shyness clearly couldn't be anymore when he finally was enrolled in school.

Even on the first day when it's "introduce yourself to everyone", he fucked that up so monumentally it'll be engraved forever in his hall of shameful memories that he thinks about late at night. School was an utter nightmare, quite frankly, from moment one. The whole situation was too much, too stressful, and too different from the life he had at home. He flat out refused to get up and present in front of the class and wouldn't talk in group projects just for the fear of embarrassing himself. At that time, he was hitting all the indicators for social anxiety like they're the targets he shoots at today.

He missed out on a lot of interaction with other kids initially because of how awkward he was - and having any form of anxiety never helps in social situations. Talking to others wasn't something that came naturally and his own panic amplified it tenfold. Most times, he'd either pretend he didn't hear them, avoid them, or stray as far to the edge of the group as possible to avoid it. Unfortunately this made him an easy target because kids are RUTHLESS and turned him into even more outcast as well which only worsened it.

School always sucked for him due to that, despite the fact that he was a smart kid. No amount of smarts could save you from social persecution when you had nearly no social skills to boot. [ side note but I'm dying on the hill that he's incredibly intelligent and has a bachelors degree (at the very least)].

His parents kept him in therapy to help him manage because without it, he'd be back at square one refusing to go to school and faking a cold just to get out of it. And of course, therapy is a very important tool when it comes to healing, coping, and managing severe mental disorders. The whole reason why he doesn't show such bad anxiety anymore is because he kept the skills he learned and applies them so much that it becomes his second nature.

He's had at least 35 years of this, he's good enough to mask and to keep up his facade.

Another part of why he doesn't show it nearly as much is because he joined the military and was thrown through the wringer with it. Being bullied for so long was a major motivator for joining in the first place, as he needed something to get away from the peers who tormented him so and he needed a new life where he wasn't known as target #1. But he ALSO wanted to gain actual confidence and more certainty in himself.

Joining the military really means you're not left with such things as many choices when it comes to anxiety in social situations. You're forced into quarters with others, have to work side-by-side, do nearly everything together, so on and so forth. He knew that going in but at that point for him it was like extreme exposure therapy, the last step he needed to really put everything he learned in therapy to work.

That doesn't mean he didn't suffer or loved it. No, it was terrible, intense, and nerve-wracking. But he wouldn't have done it otherwise if he didn't want that. Being in the military didn't give him the leeway to avoid what made him anxious, it taught him to face it head on and fight.

Now that he's up there in age and has considerable more experience (and leeway with having a higher rank), the ways he expresses it [look at me finally answering the question] are more subtle.

On the field, you're likely not going to notice it. Because that's him turning the little auto pilot switch in his mind to on when he has a job. The job is his focus and everything has been so engrained in his mind that it's muscle memory. He's, quite frankly, focused on not dying and getting any job done over himself. The joking you often hear him do and taunting alike is part of how he's expressing the confidence he feels when he's in his element, when he KNOWS what he is doing.

If you look closely or approach him off the field, however, it's another story. He usually tenses or straightens himself out when people approach and will hold that until they leave (unless they're someone who he truly knows). Many assume that's a taught habit of the military, but that's only half-true. He did that before then.

Unlike when he's working, he doesn't have a guide or things he knows he has to do in a specific order to best ensure survival - no matter how much talking to other people feels like the heat of the battle, you can't (legally) solve it with a gun or throw a frag and book it out of there. There's no true guide to social interactions and that stresses him out. There's no manual, no field guide, no ten step card on how to successfully navigate them.

He knows things that are normal to say, he knows sometimes what he should say - it's just a matter of finding the phrasing and how to say them. Yet it seems like whenever someone doesn't follow his pre-programmed line of thought when it comes to their talking, his mind can shut down and go blank as he stares, trying to figure out where to go or what to say (spoiler: it usually doesn't end well).

He's usually awkward to talk to because he's running over everything in his head as he tries to think of what best to say to avoid further interactions or ones that could be more targeting to him. And, as mentioned, he lacks the average set of social skills that plenty learn in childhood because he didn't have that proper socialization. He's also still not the best at talking itself and can be blunt and to-the-point, which also doesn't usually go down well.

Not to mention, he's bad at small talk and has a terrible, sarcastic sense of humor that many can't read and it quickly turns things uncomfortable very fast because everyone takes him seriously. It never helps he usually doesn't explain himself all too well, usually leaving it as is as he secretly wishes he didn't talk at all when mortification sets in. Hurrying away with an excuse of some paperwork or something else to busy himself is his go-to after those.

When possible, he'll avoid small-talk and greatly prefers gestures instead. Someone who can appreciate his greater need for silence and a lack of talking is someone who he will greatly appreciate in turn. He's a firm believer that not all silences are uncomfortable and sometimes, it IS best not to say anything at all.

Due to his childhood too, he's not really fond of being around many people and will do his best to avoid it. Unless he has to grin and bare it, he won't. He finds his mind calmest when he can just be himself without having to worry about saying the right things to appease others or to be friendly. That way he can focus on what he wants, think how he wants, and feels how he wants without second guessing himself or having to worry about existing.

He's going to avoid most public settings when possible. Though he can now suitably manage his anxiety, they're something he passes up on. Grocery store trips are something he does maybe once a week or two, if that - stock piling so he has to go to the store less is his usual strategy. Anything he can do himself, he WILL do himself, if he doesn't have a trusted person who can do it better or can help.

Notably, he also doesn't have many friends. He's like talking to a brick wall and unless you're considerably persistent and understanding of his need for space, you won't get far. A lot of people don't have the time nor patience for it, but if you do get close to him, he does come out of his shell. He appreciates anyone who cares enough to actually get close to him and get to know him despite how awkward he can be, and will be loyal to the end because of that.

Another side effect is that he doesn't sleep well. Between the massive amounts of trauma from his job and the trauma from his childhood, he doesn't sleep well as is. But the social anxiety aspect comes into play because many nights, his mind is rerunning all the interactions he's had as he chronically overthinks them. He always wonders what he could've done, how he could've improved, and what they're thinking of him (even if they're someone he may never run into again). Its very hard for him to shut his mind off and doing such usually requires him drowning everything else and making himself not think about that, or anything, any more.

[Another side note: He's an avid reader. Reading gives him new things to think about and can help put him to sleep, especially before bed. It's a good way for him to stop thinking about whatever was nagging him and shifts his mind into thinking about other things he enjoys instead)

Basically, IN SHORT this isn't my full in-depth detailed characterization of exactly who I think he is - the reason he's not presenting it as an anxious ball of pure energy who is so uwu shy and soft is because he is incredibly well-managed with his severe social anxiety at his age and that's uh, just not him. Social anxiety doesn't mean he's a blubbering mess or will cry at the slightest inconvenience and reducing him to that or treating anyone with social anxiety like they're a child because of it does not help at alllll.

He's had extensive therapy for this, he's got his methods, he can mask very well. He's a WHOLE GROWN MAN who is responsible for not only his actions but how he manages his emotions and he knows it. But if you know him and know what to look for, you'll be able to pick it up.

(Also the sheer amount of scenarios I've seen where people think he just would... cry if you took his mask off??? Him???? HIM???? König, "I can make you talk, where are they?" the skilled PMC operator? That one? That guy? Yeah no, anyone dumb enough to do that better have signed their will prior or hopefully has an intensive love for scrubbing all the floors with a single old toothbrush. He won't tolerate people harassing or hustling him or pressing on his nerves. Sure, it reminds him of his childhood bullies, but quite frankly that behavior as grown adults trying that is RIDICULOUS, it pisses him off and immediately lowers his opinion on them.)

To whoever made it this far, I hope this made sense, I took melatonin before I got the ask so I'm in another realm right now LMAO. König is one of my favorites and was the first character I realllly really loved and I just hate seeing him done so dirty. Especially as someone with severe social anxiety myself, it irritates me when it's portrayed just so... wrong and quite frankly, in a lazy, offensive manner lacking any nuance especially in relation to the character who has it. Like just making him stutter and cry isn't all social anxiety is and there's SO much depth and things to work with despite the... actual substance as far as his bio goes

[scriberye]

Hi Rye, are you still writing for the prompt list? If so, could you do [INJURY] with the receiver as Barabas Dantioch? He can be the receiver of kisses as well since well he can’t do much kissing with that iron mask of his.

(loud, heavy breathing) I got carried away. Thank you.

Dantioch sits still as you work, a massive and unmoving figure against the dim, flickering lights. Your hands tremble as you disinfect and patch him up, from the wound at his side to the bruising on his hands.

You’re such a frail, shaky little thing compared to him. Your clothes are threadbare and a size too big, making you seem even smaller. And Dantioch’s afraid to move, lest he scare you.

Despite the fear oozing off you, your hands are skilled, honed from years of treating and tending wounds. He wonders how many other brothers you’ve tended to during your life, and how many you failed to save.

You finish securing the final bandage, cradling Dantioch’s large hand in your own smaller ones. For a moment, you just stare at the bandage you so carefully wrapped — and something stirs within you. Some old, forgotten instinct rises to the surface, and you lift his hand up to your lips and press a kiss to his wrapped knuckles.

The gesture is so unexpected and tender that it catches even Dantioch by surprise.

Once realization hits you, you shrink back from him, eyes wide with fear, embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks. “F-Forgive me, my lord!” you stammer, bowing your head low, “I don’t.. I didn’t— !”

Such a transgression could only be met with anger and wrath. You’ve severely overstepped your station, but there is only silence.

Dantioch raises his hand, the same one you kissed just moments before. You flinch as he reaches for you, but he’s gentle as he tips your chin up. Your breath hitches as you search for his eyes beneath the mask.

“Thank you,” he says, his thumb brushing over the swell of your cheek before he cups your face in his broad hand. Dantioch’s touch is so gentle for his size, as if he’s handling something fragile, like you might break at the slightest touch.

“You’re welcome, my lord,” you reply. A blush rises to your cheeks, and you take his hand again, turning your head to place another kiss on the palm of his hand. And for a moment, Dantioch could imagine what it felt like to be human, and not a tool for a seemingly endless war.

🔞 BONUS ROUND. 1k words of smut under the cut, enjoy the Dantioch x F!Reader x Polux sandwich.

Polux tightens his fists at his sides, watching the scene unfold before him. You, Polux’s own personal serf, is spread open wide over his best friend’s lap, fully on display. Though Dantioch is still mostly armored, he’s removed his gauntlets. A thick, calloused finger circles your clit in slow, measured strokes, and you whimper pitifully at the rough sensation against your sensitive flesh.

“Make sure to watch closely, brother,” Dantioch says, his finger dipping lower. You gasp sharply as his finger finds your entrance, pressing inside with a single, firm stroke.

Polux swallows hard, his gaze flickering back and forth between Dantioch’s finger and your flushed face. It’s just one finger, and already his brother has you grabbing onto his wrist and arching your back, begging him for more.

Dantioch moves his finger in and out of you slowly, curling and stroking, finding all the right points to make you shudder and moan his name. You rock desperately against his finger — you’re so close. Then he pulls his finger out with a wet squelch and you whine at the loss.

“Come here, Alexis,” Dantioch says, his fingers parting your folds, revealing the delicate pink of your cunt to Polux’s hungry gaze. “Don’t keep her waiting, lick.”

Polux doesn’t hesitate, crashing to his knees between Dantioch’s legs. His mouth waters at the sight of you — slick with arousal coating your thighs and Dantioch’s fingers. He leans forward, his tongue darting out to circle your clit, teasingly before giving it suck.

“You taste so sweet, little one,” Polux sighs, voice muffled by your flesh.

“More,” you whine, trying to buck your hips and draw Polux closer. “Please, please more.”

Dantioch presses a hand against the back of Polux’s head, urging him deeper into your cunt. Polux groans, working his tongue deeper into your tight heat, filling the room with the sounds of your growing moans, and the wet sounds of his tongue.

Your breath comes out in jagged gasps, chest heaving wildly as your pleasure builds. You toss your head back against Dantioch’s chest, crying out as it finally crests, your body shaking and toes curling as you soak Polux’s tongue in your cum.

“Good work,” Dantioch says, giving your thighs a light squeeze. Polux rises to his feet, his hand lazily working over his rigid length.

Your heart skips a beat as Dantioch lifts you up, the tip of his cock throbbing against your cunt. He eases you down onto him, the sheer girth of him stretching you to your limits and you struggle to accommodate him. You whine, feeling every vein and ridge of his flesh as he spears you open, leaving no space unfilled inside you.

Polux leans over and kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he deepens the kiss. Dantioch’s grip on your highs tighten once you’ve taken as much of him as you can feasibly can. He starts to move you up and down on his cock, gradually becoming more rough with each plunge.

Polux pulls away from the kiss, his eyes dark with lust. “Does it feel good, little one?” he asks, stroking your hair back from your sweaty face.

“Uh huh,” you nod dumbly, lost in a sea of sensations and pleasures. “Want you too, sir,” you moan, voice and body bouncing on Dantioch’s lap.

Polux is just the right height for you to reach out and wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling it throb and twitch in your hand. You lean forward and fit as much of him in your mouth as you can. The taste of his pre-cum on your tongue is intoxicating, and you eagerly suck on him, pulling a moan from Polux.

Dantioch’s breathing becomes more ragged and desperate, muffled by the sound of his mask, as he works you up and down on his cock. Each thrust reaching deeper and deeper. With one last powerful surge, he lets out a strangled groan as he releases himself deep inside you.

Reluctantly, you let Polux’s cock slip from your mouth, moaning at the sensation of Dantioch flooding your cunt. He slowly rocks up into you, thick white streaks coating his cock.

Polux quickly takes over, easing you up and off Dantioch’s lap. You shudder as thick globs of cum leak out of your stretched out cunt. Polux guides you onto the bed and onto your hands and knees.

You shiver, feeling Polux position himself behind you, his heavy cock resting against the curve of your ass. And you’re more than happy to arch your back, presenting more of yourself to him.

“Please, my lord,” you beg. “Need you inside me.”

“Patience,” Polux says, running his hands over your curves for a moment before reaching down to line up with your well-used cunt, the cockhead nudging your folds apart as he sinks into you. You cry out, burying your face against the bed as you feel yourself strain and stretch again to take his massive size.

Polux sighs, he bottoms out so quickly, and he goes still, giving you a moment to adjust. He leans over you, bracing himself on his hands above you before he pulling out and slamming back into you. His hips piston, driving his cock into you over and over.

You scream into the bedsheets, holding on for dear life as he pounds you into another orgasm. Polux reaches between your legs, his own calloused finger rubbing your clit in tight circles. It’s enough to push you over the edge, and your body shakes as you cum again.

Polux follows shortly after. The straining flutter of your cunt around his cock triggers his own orgasm. He lets out a long, guttural groan as his cock pulses and floods your cunt with even more cum.

Weak and unable to hold yourself up any longer, you sink down into the bed and sliding off Polux’s cock. The mix of his and Dantioch’s cum oozes out of your cunt, pooling between your legs and soiling the bed.

Exhaustion finally takes its toll and, as sleep begins to claim you, you can hear Polux and Dantioch talk.

“Is she.. Okay?”

“Yes.. drink.. bath..”

“.. .. join us.”

[pookiebeary]

Go Little Spider

Spiderperson! Reader in Gotham

Gn!Reader x Batfam(?)

Heavily inspired by "Peter the Pizza Guy" and "Dark Matter" on AO3

ATSV spider-reader

Taglist: @rl800

Back | Part 2

A pained groan and rustling from the dumpster caught the attention of some passersby but such was the norm in Gotham. No one came forward to help, merely glancing a second longer before going on with their lives.

You tried not to gag at the smell of rotting food surrounding you and instead focused your attention on trying to climb out of the pile of trash bags. It didn't help that your suit was soaked with whatever filthy water was in the bag of molding McDonald's.

Gross.

The putrid smell violates your nostrils and you try not to breathe as much as you need to, which is impossible when every little action you make causes you to suck in a breath because it hurts like hell. Each breath you take makes your chest hurt, like something was squeezing your lungs and stabbing it with a needle repeatedly. With shaky hands, you slowly climb up and out the dumpster, landing with a small thud on the concrete ground.

You let out a small oomph as your back hits the ground.

You're frozen on the ground as a wave of pain floods your body with it mostly concentrated on your left shoulder blade and ribs. The only positive thing about the situation is that nothing seems to be broken and the only thing there is the pain and horrible pounding headache like you've just drunk a bottle of vodka.

As you lay immobilized on the floor, you feel your vision blur as tears pool in your eyes. You quickly blinked and rolled your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling down. You weren't sure why you were crying; you've been through worse than this. In all honesty, this was but a scratch compared to the injuries you've had on your line of work.

Still, you find some tears pooling on your eyes as you look up to stare at the dark and gritty alleyway you find yourself in. It reminded you of the first time you met Peter dressed as Spiderman; He had confronted the man who cornered you after you left school and dealt with him properly. And after the man passed out from the one sided fight, Peter webbed him up for the police to take him away before checked on you. You were grateful for his help and that was your first meeting with the amazing Spider-Man....

Lips pressed into a thin line as you recall the memory, you look at the hazy night sky as police sirens echo in the background. Smoke and the putrid smell of rot clung to your nose, causing you to scrunch up in disgust but also sobering you from further dwelling on the nostalgic memories.

Your hand clenches around your spider mask, with fingers tracing the webbing details on it before you start sitting up, there's no point in dwelling in the past.

You have to move on. Ignoring the cascade of pain as you move your body, you manage to drag yourself to lay on the dumpster after much effort. Okay, swinging on your web is definitely out of the question. Your eyes fall onto the occasionally glitching screen of the interdimensional watch settled on your wrist. It looks broken, but the painful feeling of your atoms slowly disintegrating wasn't there so at least it's still doing its primary function- stabilizing your atoms to settle in this dimension.

You tap on the screen of the watch, inspecting the other hardware to see if you could salvage it; Parts of the monitor were cracked but other than that nothing seemed to be too broken to repair.

Okay, you can probably try and fix it once you get your hands on some tools and replace some of the wiring. You can do this, you think. Probably. Maybe? You weren't confident given your first attempt at reverse engineering the watch ended up with you being flung to an unknown dimension, but that wasn't so bad. Honestly you were expecting it to fail and disintegrate you instead when you jumped to the ominous portal. (You've calculated the probability and it definitely wasn't in your favor.)

Frowning as you fiddle around with the internal hardware of the watch, you feel sweat rolling down your temples as you let out a frustrated groan when you try and salvage some of the more broken parts.

Welp.

There goes your only chance of knowing what dimension you're stranded in, for now at least. You take a long look at the buzzing streetlight across the street, the gritty and dark unwelcoming atmosphere didn't seem like any version of New York you've encountered. Added with the fact that your spidey senses have been thrumming softly in warning did not help with the horrible first impression this dimension gave you.

Letting out a sigh as you look down to check on your sorry state of a spidersuit, you start walking towards the streets despite a lack of destination in mind. You don't know where to go but any place is better than a dumpster in a shady alley. Plus, you didn't forget that now you had the spider society hot on your trails. Hopefully, they are being misled by the fake trail of breadcrumbs you left behind after messing around with the watch.

With your heart in your mouth, you trudge along the pavement like every step was a pain and arduous task.

***

You'd think that an injured guy wearing a ragged up spandex costume with the theme of a spider would elicit some sort of question but you were proven wrong when the few people that walked past you didn't bat an eye. Though to be fair, they looked drunk or high as hell- which should’ve been the biggest warning sign that you're stranded in the bad side of the city.

Well, that realization came very late to you and it didn't do much to ease the low thrum your spider senses gave you. It buzzed off uncomfortable at the back of your head the further you walked into the city. The wind blew coldly against your face and you felt exposed without your mask. You hesitantly placed your sweaty spider mask back to your face and gagged from the horrible smell. Unfortunately, even after all those years of wearing it, you've never gotten used to the smell of your sweat-soaked mask after a long day’s work.

After making sure the mask was firmly secured, you look around the growing darkness. The street lamps ahead were broken or flickering like it was running on sheer will. Your spidey senses were buzzing wildly at the thought of continuing the walk.

Yea, there's no way you're walking down a dark alley alone in the middle of the night. That's just asking for trouble.

You turn around, walking towards one of the buildings, wondering which building you should climb and travel through the roofs. You didn't notice this before when you were too focused on trying not to agitate your injuries during the walk but god damn the buildings have seen better days.

Some were crumbling and had dozens of bullet-sized holes, most were covered in graffiti and broken wood planks and metal pipes with suspicious goo oozing out, it seemed like a chemistry experiment gone wrong while constructions of the building were canceled halfway.

Seriously, your spidey senses are going ballistic right now it's actually unnerving. (You swear you'd heard gunshots ring in the air and this time it's louder than the previous one as police sirens echo in the background.)

It's rarely acted this way before, except that one time you visited Hell’s Kitchen for a field trip. Only this time, the annoying constant thrumming at the back of your head was louder and more in-your-face than the one at Hell’s kitchen.

Right as you stood staring at the weathered billboard sign hanging from the shoddy building of what was once a fast food diner contemplating if you should just travel from the roof, you hear a cry for help.

***

[bumblebeerror]

It’s been on my mind today but I need you to know.

Hitting 25 has been one of the best things to ever happen to me.

I don’t say this lightly - I lost my father who I loved dearly at age 18, I grew up a bit above the poverty line and now only *just* live above it. I’ve been treated for severe mental illness and learning disabilities since I was a child, starting at 6 years old. I have a physical disability and chronic pain. I have had some bad fuckin times, I’ve been through my share, and I’ll go through more I’m sure.

But I can tell you I feel so much better mentally at age 25, unable to stand for more than an hour or so without severe pain, on a consistent schedule of prescribed pain pills, discovering just how hard I was masking some pretty serious autism, struggling with my ADHD meds being less effective, and only leaving the house three total times a week because I’m immunocompromised than I was at age 13 when “all my problems were school”.

Because at age 10, nobody close to me had ever died before. At age 11, I had never lived in a new place before. At age 12, I had never felt so cold and empty and tired. I’d never endured my peers teasing me for crying about a death in my family. At age 13 I had never felt like I wanted to die before then, like the world was on fire, like it was ending. At age 14 I hadn’t known what it felt like to have period cramps so bad my mother sent me to school with a muscle relaxer and still had to pick me up by lunch, to have this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that being a girl was a lie and I was a liar. At age 15 I’d never had people remind me so viciously that I wasn’t like them, I’d never felt so throughly upset by the idea of one more person calling me she. At age 16 I’d never had my heart broken before, I’d never dealt with a friend turning on me completely. At age 17, I’d never had my family feel so broken. At age 18, I’d been petrified of the idea of my father dying, and he did. At age 19, I’d never actually thought about how I would kill myself before. At 20, I’d never gotten drunk before. At 21, I’d never gone inside a bar.

You get the picture.

Your teen years suck because you’ve never done so much shit, and on top of the terrifying experience of doing it all for the first time, you also have all your peers picking at you for doing it wrong the first time. Your teen years suck because they are chaotic and new and stressful and you don’t know how to handle them yet. You’re not supposed to know yet.

Hitting 25 was the realization that I wasn’t going to just up and die, that now I have to actually plan. I have to do taxes, and that I actually know how to. That I have to care for my pets and I know how to. That I have to drive to work and do my job and I know how to.

25 was what made me realize that I had things I was supposed to be around for. People and pets who relied on me, who loved me and needed me and wanted me.

That I can have a panic attack and know that I’m having one. That something can piss me off and I know I can take a moment before I respond. The awareness that I do not have to do everything for the first time all the time anymore, that I know stuff, that I’ve been around the block and can use those tools is INVALUABLE. The fact that I can look at my intrusive thoughts and, if I truly wanted to, CHOOSE to indulge them? That I can sit here and be the cat that doesn’t wish to go to the vet and the concerned cat owner?

It changes everything.

It was the realization that I am the one punishing myself. That I can and should respect myself as a person because it means I can respect more deeply the care that other people have for me. It sounds so stupid when I explain it but it’s absolutely a whole different ball game.

The fact that I think the only thing that could severely tank my mental health is if I were to become homeless in winter or actively abused or something similar should speak volumes to you what I mean when I say that not having to do everything for the first time all the time is a huge mental weight off you.

I promise. It will feel better when you are 25. I promise that even if it isn’t fixed, it will be easier. And if I’m wrong when you hit 25, you can come yell at me about it. Probably I’ll still be here.

[drdemonprince]

could you tell us about your experience with mushrooms? I've tried it many times, and I feel like it hasn't changed anything for me (though i had no expectations), but maybe i was "doing it wrong"

I posted about it a couple weeks back, so you can scroll thru for that, but it didn't do much for me. I felt high like I was on weed, I danced in a warehouse for a while, which was as pleasant as it always is substances or no, I went outside and the grass and leaves were shimmering, my friend drove me in their car and we listened to Bjork and it was very pretty and moving to watch the sunlight glisten on the skyscrapers and the lake, I felt a sense of peace and certainty in living here being an immense gift that I should cement by establishing more permanent roots here, housing wise, and then we went to the beach to watch a drag show and i drank a bubble tea and felt relaxed and good. later in the evening, mostly sober watching children's dog movies of the 90s like All Dogs Go to Heaven, I got kind of emotional. but nothing beyond my normal range of possible feeling. i was depressed the next day, sad like a forlorn child in a manageable way. i was irritable and pissy the next few days, desperately craving my own space and quiet, which used to happen a few years ago when i was in a worse living situation and place in my life. it felt like backsliding. i was annoyed that i felt that way. it stayed like that for a few days. now a couple weeks later im basically the same, but a little more resolute about some changes that i want to make. i feel like a serious adult man. if anything it just got me to where i was mentally heading a little bit faster.

sometimes the shrooms have something to teach you, my friend blair says, and sometimes they don't. while i was high in the car listening to bjork, i turned inward and asked the mushrooms, "hey guys, whats going on? what do i need to know, if anything?" and they said to me (im speaking metaphorically here) "you already know exactly what is going on in your life. you know what you're good at and what you want, and you know what has been persistently making you upset. youve made certain decisions about how to navigate the difficult things in your life, and you have an accurate gauge of what the costs of that are. not much else to say. you know what's going on." and i was like "bet." i didn't hallucinate, i had no big revelations, and i probably wouldnt do it again for a very long time because the come down sucked for me.

people overhype what substances can do for you, a lot of the time. it's just a tool. it can be fun. it can give you diarrhea. it can make you cry, and maybe that's good. it's not a solution to your problems it's just another problem but some problems are worth it in your own risk cost calculus etc.

and i find that many autistic people just aren't all that impacted by substances like allistics are. we're so reflexive at masking that our impulse may be to maintain composure and level headedness at all times. i was pretty sober after anesthesia too. i often wish that substances would give me some grand feeling of release, but once the drug hits my system all i want is to remain in control, as i always do. there's an infamous story about a guy who the CIA tested acid tabs on, who didn't hallucinate or act funny after like 30 consecutive doses. he just seemed normal. it turned out he was at baseline absolutely consumed with debilitating anxiety. so being super fucking high just gave him something to direct his hyperanalytical system's attention to. i hope someone reading this will remember this account and provide a link, im not being super precise. but. there's something about that experience that i relate to. ive never been out of control on any substance. i always seem pretty lucid, maybe a little sillier or more tired but even those things feel like a choice.

[theredhavendelegate]

Iss. 3:

Mysteries Beneath The Rubble!

Census workers from the mayor's office continue to aid in rescue and recovery efforts following The Great Transit, cataloguing the losses and tearfully reuniting the survivors.

The work is difficult, and while it has been getting physically easier as the days go on, the emotional toll only grows higher by the hour.

Most of the casualties have been due to crushing, blood loss, and sudden trauma, but unusual cases have gradually begun to bubble up. Though the offices of the mortician and mayor have refused to make statements on the matter, an anonymous Blue Coalition volunteer has come forward with a startling report... ---

The red bricks and colorful awnings, the copper roofs and cobbled roads, smashed and shattered and tossed and mixed, have combined to form a dusty, deathly grey, a beach with no waterline: an ossuary.

Alessa's soft nose and thin lips are covered with a hand-sewn mask. She and half-a-dozen others, each with a band of blue fabric on their upper arms, crawl over the debris with shovels and picks.

One of them calls out, voice echoing over the ruins: "Found one!"

There is a pause, tinted painfully with hope. The voice calls again, slightly grey now: "They're gone."

Another volunteer shuffles over with tools and a canvas bag.

Alessa carries on, clears the doorway to a house whose roof has collapsed, knocks in the window to a shop, shouts, "Hello? We're here to help, just make a sound, anything!" Her tone is not frightened or desperate. It isn't even protective per se. It is purposeful and sure, unfazed as a lighthouse amidst a storm.

Despite the softness of her features, her hands are calloused and scarred and her body subtly muscled. She breaks off ahead of her group, leaving blue fabric flags on any building that's held together well enough to have preserved those inside, until she spots the hole.

It's vast, an entire block seemingly sucked into the ground. It runs a hundred feet across and fifty feet at its deepest. Steep walls rise on every side and water, gas, and sewer lines jut out of them like rough, toothy needles.

"Sinkhole, maybe?" Alessa wonders, then something catches her eye. All around the edge of the hole are red signs, marked with the feather of Redhaven and the phrase 'Danger, Do Not Enter!'

Alessa glower's at the nearest one, daring it to stop her, then glances back down into the chasm. There are all the components of the street within: bent and curling lampposts, shattered windows, cobbles and curbs. No victims, though.

She waits a minute longer and, just as she goes to heft her tool bag back onto her shoulder, there is a sound: a scrape, then another, then a series of rasping coughs. A man tumbles out from beneath a shaded overhang and crumples to the floor, where he lies, wheezing.

Alessa drops her tools into the hole, down the shallowest of the slopes, then navigates herself down as well. Despite the desperate condition of her target, she moves comfortably, testing each step with almost half of her body weight before taking it fully, knocking away loose ground and rubble with kicks and nudges as she goes.

Her feet hit the basin floor and she scoops up her bag, preemptively fishing for the first aid kit as she makes her way over, though she stops searching for it once the man comes clearer into sight.

He is disheveled, dusty, bloody, and his breathing is shallow. There is a splinter, reflective, like blue-ish glass, sticking out of his neck. Several more protrude from his head. Each is six or seven inches long and noticeably barbed. He rolls over as Alessa approaches, and he gurgles, "...Others...help...", even as his eyes grow glassy and still.

Alessa stares at him for a moment, her soft brown eyes growing slightly dim and her brows sinking just a hair.

She glances up and away, beneath the overhang and into a terrible darkness that lies behind the man. There is an open doorway made of cut stone, the entrance to a basement or underground utility tunnel that slopes away gently and into the earth.

Alessa takes a look back up at the red warning signs, watching her from way above like curious angels, waiting, hoping, judging.

She shakes her head, hangs a blue flag by the doorway, and enters, lighting up an large, clunky flashlight. Its flickering yellow beam barely cuts through the gloom and the buzz it emits seems to barely cover an audible aura about the place.

Alessa proceeds down the tunnel, only slightly bothered by the atmosphere. She follows a trail of blood, barely present this far in but growing thicker. More glassy barbs appear, some stuck into walls, cut right into the stone, others discarded on the floor and stained partly red.

The tunnel goes on for too long, and without any of the usual furniture of a cellar. No barrels, no shelves, just more damage and evenly spaced, unlit bulbs of a newer style. There are holes in the walls and floor at odd intervals, a foot or two in diameter and organically shaped like ant burrows. Many are scorched, sprayed with black soot and reeking of kerosene.

The tunnel turns into a hall quite suddenly, lined with steel, linoleum, and occasionally, human bodies. Each is dressed like anyone might be, in vests, suspenders, shirts, blouses, skirts and slacks. A few wear long white coats that display unfamiliar insignia. Some are gnawed, filled with spines, or missing chunks. Some bear stranger afflictions still.

Alessa closes in on one that's huddled the corner of an intersection, a middle aged woman with strawberry blond hair tied back in a bun. Half of her face and skull has turned mostly transparent and hard, like smoked glass, to reveal her brain and optical nerves. The hair on that side of the head has fallen cleanly out and onto the floor. Her expression is locked, forever more, with eyes wide and mouth agape.

For the first time this week, Alessa recoils, though she recovers herself quickly.

In the grim quiet, a sound starts to echo out, ringing down one of the corridors and bounding through the crossroads. It is heavy, thunking and shifting. Alessa darts down another hall and rounds a corner, then extinguishes her light. She is cast in total darkness.

The sound draws near at an anxious, uneven pace. It pauses. There is muffled conversation and then clanking, a heavy click, then a thick wooshing sound. Bright light carries itself down the hallway and around the corner, then comes a wave of heat, and finally, the smell, sour and sharp like rotten eggs and vomit, and kerosene too.

Alessa reaches into her shirt, lays a palm on the handle of a revolver, and leaves it there.

The thunking movement begins again, draws close to the intersection behind the dimness of flashlights. The source of the sound grows visible now, two figures dressed from head to toe in thick white suits, like enormous anthropomorphic marshmallows. Alessa cracks a slight grin.

One of them is wearing a heavy tank on their back and carrying a sort of pump connected to it via hose. A little candle of a flame glows near its tip. The other wields a pump action shotgun, something sturdy and reliable, and clearly well used. Both have lamps mounted to the shoulders of their suits.

Alessa pulls herself back around the corner. One of the men begins to speak, voice muffled, yet still clear enough to read as uncertain. "That's it for this section. Let's get out of here and seal off the northern tunnel."

The other nods affirmatively and takes half a step, then stops. He tilts his gun up and into the darkness.

A sound begins. Clicking and chirping, harsh and organic, insectoid, like from summer cicadas. Darker though, harder.

Closer.

The man pulls the trigger.

The sound is deafening. Alessa's ears ring. The flash is what matters more though, as the whole space lights up for just a fraction of a second. The hallway she'd originally come from is now filled with chitinous things. Many armed and legged, constructed like armored, pincered ponies, slick and clinging to the walls and ceiling and packed in as if a single mass.

The man with the flamethrower lets loose, the man with the shotgun racks another round, and both start screaming in sync. A racket of scraping, cackling, clattering chitin fills the air. Alessa turns on her flashlight again and bolts away from the action. The hallways are all nearly identical, some are lined with doors, some turn off into narrow, dead-end alleys, while others feature thick, valved pipes and wall access panels of unknown purpose.

Even as the frenzied sounds fade away, absorbed by tile and steel and stone, twisted and choked by the labyrinth, Alessa runs. She pounds the ground with her boot-clad feet until she's blue in the face and her lungs ache, until she rounds a corner into another long, straight hall that slopes mercifully upwards.

She crashes against the wall, slumping into it and breathing heavily. Her knuckles hurt. She pulls her hand, finally, out of her shirt, fingers white and bloodless, joints aching to return to the shape of the revolver's grip. She stretches out her hand and starts up the slope.

There's daylight at the end, misty and grey, and relief floods the volunteer like cold water. As her senses return, a gaze burns into the her neck, a presence. She doesn't face it. She only whispers, "If you want to kill me, you'd better do it now, while I'm too tired to fight back."

Nothing attacks her, and as she reaches the end of the hall, which is set into the mouth of a cave in the semi-familiar outskirts of the city, she glances back. Only darkness stares back.

Only darkness.

---

First Prev Next

[merrhea39]

my binge of everything judgment day pt 1

Wm38 edge(w) vs aj styles where priest interferes and judgment day forms officially

Raw 4/4/22 edge has promo crowd chants ‘we are sheep’ then priest starts his promo and the crowd immediately chants ‘we don’t care’ and then ‘we want rusev’ respectfully this crowd should shut the fuck up. AJ styles runs in beats on the heels but TJD has a numbers advantage so they beat up AJ and edge and priest do this leg sweep spear thing.

Raw 4/11/22 priest vs styles (no contest) (also dom dom taken out in an ambulance not related just shows how time flies lol) hearing damian with his old song is weird also king is on commentary here. I wish king was on commentary the last time they were in Memphis. It would've been nice to see. AJ gets busted open pretty early on in the match. That was certainly an ending… I knew there was some supernatural shit in early judgment day but what was that?

Raw 4/18/22 naomi+banks(w) vs. l4b (this is a surprise tool that will help judgment day later) she is such a dom in this match i love mother. Her little hoop fell out but i was mostly thirsting over how hot rhea looks when she angy. (also notable finn loses the us title on this raw) now for the edge and damian promo and yeah what the fuck was that damian? Edge roasts the fuck out of buffalo.

Raw 4/25/22 edge likes the word omnipotence. Lol edge takes shots at the tennessee volunteers and kane here. Priest(w) vs. Balor HES JUST STANDING THERE MENACINGLY!! Also judgment day finally gets their name. I like damian’s old theme even if it doesn’t fit judgment day damian.

Raw 5/2/22 Priest vs Styles(w). I LOVE THE OLD JUDGMENT DAY NAME PLATES! Also the pyro went off at the wrong time during the entrance. I love edge just roasting cities. Styles wins on a rollup that looked awful then edge and damian start beating on aj until finn saves the day. 

Lynch+Ripley+deville vs morgan+asuka+belair(w) (look i know this isn’t judgment day but heel rhea is heel rhea and is important to the story. Also remember when women main evented?) becky shouldn’t be a heel. Jack-o-lantern pants in may is such a rhea thing. 4 of my fave women's wrestlers in the ring at the same time makes me happy. Deville takes the pinfall loss.

Backlash 5/8/22 edge(w) vs styles. The ring announcer was really sucking off edge here. Holding a ppv in such a tiny arena is so odd even for wwe of that time. This match is a very hard hitting one. Wow I wonder who could be that masked figure? Omg its pre-mami rhea ripley who would've guessed.

[maizethecorn]

More Draxum fics and Recommended YouTube Videos Analyzing Donnie and Leo from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Turtles

More Draxum fanfics of him bonding with turtles and recommended Youtube videos of a girl's character analysis on Leonardo and Donatello

So, I found more fanfics of Draxum bonding with the turtles and decided to share them. Most of these fics are on the lighter side with some seriousness but mostly happy.  Usually, I like Draxum to be reformed and I prefer fics where Donatello isn’t hurting himself or being suicidal. Donatello is surrounded by three supportive brothers and two dads so I don’t think he would hurt himself. The first two mentioned fics are the only two serious ones. Here are the list of recommended fics I found:

Ok, so I was pouring over this fic for hours by Faiakishi which is called Dawning of the Hour which is complete and the sequel fic is called Third From The Son which is still on going. The story is so good and had me feeling conflicted because Draxum is evil, kidnaps Donnie and mindwipes Donnie to be his protegee of sorts. The story has some sweet moments of Draxum being a dad to Donatello. Draxum started out using Donnie as a tool for wiping out humanity but seems to be caring about him as the story progresses. What sucks is Donatello has no idea who his brothers or Splinter are. His brothers and Splinter show up to rescue him, but Donatello fights them and resists their attempts to help him remember who he is. The author promises a happy ending in the sequel fic meaning Donatello will probably be rescued and regain his memories. There is a nice cast of original characters the author creates that feels like they could have been in the cartoon. Here is a link to Dawing of the Hour and Third From The Son: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41950095/chapters/105292659

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43631058/chapters/109708269

Another lifetime flashing by by ninja nerd_AnaKlusmos This fic is a sweet, complete oneshot where Draxum has to return a book and Leonardo accompanies him. Leo gets hit on by a yokai and Draxum stands up for his son. Leonardo discloses he is transgender and Draxum discusses how being transgender is perfectly normal. Here is a link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/43584252/chapters/109585743

These two fics are complete oneshots by Just Andrea called Settled In and Looking Outward by and The Best Type of Kidnapping:https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927340

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25595830

Both of these fics are part of a complete series the author does called Draxum and the Fam of Draxum getting to know the turtles better. 

This complete, oneshot fic is called Like Creator, Like Creation by Purple Fern is where Donetallo and Draxum bond over a science project of reversing the mutagen Draxum has done to humans.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160106

This complete oneshot is called Commonality by sharkbuddie. Donetallo discusses with Draxum about how he feels different from everyone else. The two of them hug in a heartwarming moment at the end of the story. Here’s the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43424995

This complete one, shot called A Not so Merry Christmas by Loujtushotsoup is about Raph and Draxum. Raph dislikes Christmas due to some bad memories and Draxum dresses up as Santa to get Raph in the holiday spirit. Here is the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44209147?view_adult=true

This complete, five chapter fic was my favorite called So Many Different Ways to Say It by CupidsAroAce. Draxum starts out attempting to resist Michelangelo’s kindness and the other turtles. By the end of the fic, the four of them call him dad and he has grown into the role of being a second parent to them. Here’s the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43237330/chapters/108676237

Love is in the Air, Pass the gas mask by CupidsAroAce. This complete one, shot fic is about April finding a valentines card in her locker. She enlists Draxum’s help in finding out who gave her the card. April and Draxum have a father/daughter dynamic in this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45025570

This complete, one shot fic is called Polar by unorthodxx is about Draxum and Leonardo bonding on an adventure. Here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41282622

This complete, one shot called Don’t Mess With A Papa Wolf by RoseTowers is about Splinter and Draxum beating up the foot clan when learning they are attempting to get more recruits. This story takes place after the Rise movie. Here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45861661

This fic is a complete, bittersweet oneshot of an older Michelangelo reflecting on adopting Draxum as his dad in younger years. Draxum has passed away but the fic implies Michelangelo and Draxum had many good years together before his passing. The author Turtle Owl presents this fic as a character analysis fic of Michelango’s relationship with Draxum and can be found in this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45122926

This  complete, two chapter fic called Barron With It by Nebula Paws is about Draxum attempting to be a new parent during an outing with Donnie and Mickey to the Hudson River. Unfortunately, a crocodile creature grabs Donnie, Draxum realizes he can’t swim so he and Mickey have to go get help. The fic has a happy ending and can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42430644/chapters/106559400

People will have to look for the link to the fic called Playing around with experiments is a bad idea by Marron 121. I liked this, complete one shot fic because Donnie and Draxum do a science experiment that gets Lenardo sucked into a video game he is playing. Donnie and Draxum have to guide Leo out of the game to fix the mess they made. Maybe someone can find a link to this fic and post it if they want. 

This complete, four chapter fic is called Never Took Your Side, Never Cursed Your Name by Yevynae. The fic is about Splinter and Draxm acting like a divorced couple raising the turtles despite never been married. The fic is pretty funny and the author says they ran out of ideas but the fic is still pretty good ot read. Here is a link to the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44217835/chapters/111194209

This complete, one shot fic is called this heart of mine that’s guilty, not remorseful by strawberryfwog is where Draxum is discussing his past crimes with Leonardo. This story takes place after the rise movie and can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44813344

Shared Spaces by eraemilius is a really, sweet one shot fic where Raph, Leo and Mikey watch Donnie bond unexpectedly with Draxum. Here is a link to the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45964285/chapters/115693924

This complete five chapter fic is called the Stolen Warrior by EpicE02 can be found at this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35637988/chapters/89065075#workskin

Draxum is a one dimensional bad guy in the Stolen Warrior that kidnaps Leonardo and brainwashes him to be the perfect warrior. I do like how the other three turtles manage to rescue Leonardo and remind him of who he is. The author does some neat fan art of Leonardo in a upgraded costume for how he looks in the story. 

This girl called skulltrot on Youtube did a great twenty six minute movie on why Leonardo has an inferiority complex. I think Leonardo was somewhat of a sad clown with all the jokes he was constantly cracking to cover up his deep insecurities. Her video can be found at this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zA1TcpaT7c4

Skulltrot also did a thirteen minute video about Donatello being autistic which can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjw9jqVvFBU

I don’t know if Skulltrot will do anymore character analysis videos for awhile since she is in college now but her videos are really good. 

[purplehelleborewrites]

Bite Back

The Price of Flesh fanfic, JackxTrans masc main character.

Warnings/notes: Graphic sexual content, violence, non-con, threats of non-con, mild transphobia, "drugged" non-con, threads of genital mutilation.

Minors DNI. Please read and abide the warnings, I'm not fucking around with them.

Fuck you, Derek.

I slid down loose sand to the shaded fissure below, keeping my balance with my hand against the rocks. The canteen around my neck--my prize for sucking his worthless dick--bounced against my chest, and I eagerly unscrewed the cap.

My first sip was to rinse the iron-bitter taste of blood and cum out of my mouth, spit at my feet. The rest disappeared down my throat before I could stop myself, gasping for air as the last drop slid across my slashed tongue. Mind calmed by the lukewarm water, I took time to search around.

Kicking a dead lizard aside, I climbed down deeper, blue catching my eye. Water.

I scrambled to my knees beside it, plunging the canteen into the water. As it filled, I froze in place. Something about it smelled…off. Chemical. Dangerous. I replaced the canteen around my neck--at least it was wet and cool against my chest--and stood.

The sky was darkening already, dotted with more stars than I’d ever seen in my life as a city boy. Beautiful, but the chill of night in the desert was starting to sink into my bones. Taking a deep breath, I climbed back up the fissure and into the open desert.

Lights in the distance pointed me toward the camp. I moved slowly, silently, towards it. Maybe it would have tools. Water. Food. That was, if it was empty and not full of assholes waiting to kill me.

It was empty. I rifled through their little stockpile, and my stomach sank. Only empty canteens. I took the one from around my neck and carefully stashed it between the others. Maybe someone would drink it. Hope you shit yourself inside out and die.

I moved back through the open desert at a slow run--too dangerous, too open--and climbed up the hill. A quick search found a pair of rocks I could sleep between, curled up like an animal but protected from the cold breeze that had picked up. Pillowing my head on my arms, I closed my eyes.

There was no way I would sleep. I could hear every shift of sand, every pebble tumbling away from where my body curled up tighter. This couldn’t be safe. Derek would find me again. Or that asshole in the dog mask. They would do to me what they did to that poor blonde girl. My body was quickly going numb with fear, but exhaustion ripping my consciousness away.

The next thing I knew, sunlight burned through my closed eyes. I groaned, wishing I had more water, and climbed down the hill. No Derek in the open desert, no sound of the four-wheeler, but I made quick work crossing it anyway.

As I made my way back down the fissure again, I heard screaming. A feminine voice. I got down low and crept closer.

Jack had the woman with the nosering on the ground in front of him, and kicked her in the stomach. “You’re fiery. I like that,” he chuckled and tipped his mask up to drink from the canteen that hung at his belt.

I don’t know what the fuck possessed me, but I grabbed the nearest rock and threw it. It bounced against his back and clattered to the ground. “Hey!” I shouted, my dry voice cracking.

He turned instantly, eyes narrowing. “Oh, you wanna play hero, cunt boy?” he taunted. He left her on the ground and stalked towards me.

I retreated until my back hit stone, and curled my hands into fists.

Jack barked a laugh. “You think you’re a match for me, tough guy?” He grabbed me by the collar when I swung in at him, slinging me back into the wall. “Come on, then.”

Hands shaking, I lunged at him again.

He dodged me easily and knocked me to the ground with an elbow to my back.

I tried to roll over and get back up, but he kicked me first, the air whooshing out of my lungs. Groaning, I curled up to protect my stomach.

“Fine. One cunt or another…” he grabbed the back of my shorts and underwear, pulling them down at once while I kicked at him. He stopped when they got to mid-thigh and was so still that I finally looked back over my shoulder at him.

He swayed unsteadily on his feet, and stumbled towards me before crashing down on top of my legs so suddenly that I yelped, scrambling back from him.

The woman approached and looked at me, then at him, then at me again. “Did you do that?”

“I left a canteen at the camp. I think it’s poisoned water but…” I looked at Jack. His chest was still rising and falling. “He’s alive. Um. Also, I’m Ian,” I said as I got to my feet and pulled my shorts back up.

She nodded. “Jacqueline. We need to get out of here in case he wakes up.”

“I think he’s awake, but I get what you mean. There’s a hill not far from here if you cross the flat open part by the camp. Just stay towards the crooked rocks.” I stared down at Jack, the cold reality of what he was about to do to me making my stomach lurch.

“Thanks.” She turned to leave, then paused when she saw I wasn’t following. “Are you coming?”

Rage bubbled in my chest. The longer I stared at Jack’s prone body, the more I wanted to take a rock and bash his brains out. “Soon,” I said, the word sharp-edged.

Jacquline nodded slowly, and jogged off.

I kicked Jack in the face, hard enough that his mask flew off. The face underneath was handsome, even with blood flowing out of the corner of his mouth. If we’d met any other way, any other place, I’d find him hot, but like this…

“Can you hear me, motherfucker?” I snarled at him, looking around. I didn’t see a rock big enough to do what I wanted, so I kicked him again, this time in the stomach. His eyes widened, and I kicked him again, and again, but he didn’t scream, or move except with the force of my foot.

Panting, I dropped down beside him on my knees, and grabbed his belt, ripping his pants open. I wasn’t thinking--I just grabbed his dick. I wanted to rip the fucking thing off. Shove it down his throat until he choked to death. I yanked and I heard him intake a hard breath, dick twitching in my hand.

I stopped. And stared. He could feel this. I laughed, and felt something in me crack. All of this pain, being hunted, being terrified, and he was. Completely. Helpless. I could do anything I wanted to him.

“Hope you like friction burns, asshole,” I growled as I stroked him, fast, dry, and rough. He quickly grew hard in my hand, and I stopped when I felt him starting to drip precum. What the fuck am I doing? The logical part of my mind screamed, but I shoved it down.

“One cunt or another, right?” I got up and pulled my shorts down with shaking hands. Kicking them aside, I straddled him, aiming downward and spitting on his dick. He stared up at me, eyes fixed between my legs. “This is for me, not you,” I said, and guided him inside of me as I slammed my hips down on him.

I didn’t need the spit. A shocking amount of wetness gushed from me as our bodies met, driving a moan from my throat. I slammed my hands against the ground for leverage, gritting my teeth as I rode him.

“How does it feel being the one being violated?” I demanded through pants, grinding my testosterone-fat clit againt his body, shuddering at the feeling.

Jack said nothing, but his chest rose and fell quickly, eyes focused on my face.

I leaned into him harder and sped up. I didn’t expect to enjoy this--I just wanted to hurt him--but every time his cock buried to the hilt, I groaned. The sweet sting of pain of him stretching me open, the burn of the sand under my knees, just added to the pleasure.

God, I didn’t want this son of a bitch to make me come, but the sick rush of power combined with the swell of my clit against his body, made my legs muscles tighten and shake. I’m so fucked up, I’m so fucked up.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming as I came, frantically riding out my orgasm until I sagged, exhausted.

Jack twitched hard, and even in my stunned haze of pleasure, I scrambled off of him so he wouldn’t come inside of me. I was just in time to see him come, white shooting all over his shirt, his jacket, his jeans. The mess made me smile.

I stood and dressed with trembling, fumbling hands. I’ll go find a rock, end this all--

His hand moved towards me.

All of my rage drained away and I ran, scrambling up the side of the fissure, blindly sprinting into the open desert. My heart was going to explode in my chest. He might find me. He might catch me, but a small part of me was at peace with that.

No matter what he did to me, I’d bite back again.

[whimsicalblanket]

A Rebel Moon review nobody asked for

Hello there. I've never written a movie review before, and I'm just jotting some thoughts on digital paper, so this is probably gonna suck ass. Warning: not spoiler free but mostly vague.

Now let's get to the movie! Did I wish I liked it? YES! Did I actually like it? OF COURSE NOT!

No bad feelings toward anyone in the cast (I really like some of them, too, so it was a real pity they didn't get a better movie).

time for bullet points! (pew pew)

plot: as basic as it can be. NO FUCKIN WORLDBUILDING WHATSOEVER. WE KNOW NOTHING. I spent the entire movie wondering who the fuck the guys in red tunics and hats were, only to discover they're "just some nurses". At least that's the only info we get.

CGI: well done, I think, but... there's nothing that really makes me go "wow!" you know? no bright eyes. the shiny twin swords were cool, though. like... you have all that magic cgi tool and do a gryphon? and... a couple of horses with a keratin mask on? you kidding me? LIKE, I was already upset we didn't get more languages and such, but I do get it that it requires time and all. but... SOME CREATIVITY PLEASE!

character development: there is basically none because THERE IS NO TIME FOR ANYTHING IN THIS MOVIE APPARENTLY. The only character who actually made me swoon a little was Gunnar, because he starts off as "oh gosh, this man is gonna be a pain in the ass" and then becomes the cutest pie possible (I like you Gunnar. *pat pat)

someone please let Ed Skrein do a different role for once in his life. i get it, his face relentlessly asks for punches, but he deserves to try something else (but good job, as usual)

OK SO AM I CRAZY OR WERE THEY IMPLYING THAT SOMEONE LIKES TO HAVE TENTACLE PORN AND DOESN'T EVEN HIDE IT FROM HIS SUBORDINATES

lastly, there wasn't a single drop of humour in the movie BUT I ended up laughing before it hit the 1 minute mark because I'm a fucking child and the portal looked like a vagina xDDDDD

Done. I think this it. I feel better now (*let it all out, let it all out, baby).

Silver lining: they put not one, not two, but THREE of my crushes in this movie, so the simping was on a really high level.

[minijenn]

Just finished Breath of the Wild as part of my huge Zelda marathon to prep for Tears of the Kingdom, so I guess I might as well rank all of the games that I played for it! Keep in mind that was I bit pressed for time so I had to skip a few entries. For this marathon I did not play: Zelda 2, the Oracles games, Minish Cap, the Four Swords games, Triforce Heroes, or Age of Calamity. As for the games I did play... Here’s how I (personally) think they stack up: 

1. Breath of the Wild: Wow, completely not surprising that my favorite game of all time is my favorite Zelda game too! But honestly this game just... hits in all the right places. I love exploring its massive world, finding its little secrets, just basking in the immersive environment of it all. I love its story and how its told to you little by little, how we get such an interesting take on Zelda and her relationship with Link, I love the champions, both old and new, I love the gameplay, the atmosphere, all the little tools and tricks the game gives you to play with, I love almost everything about it! Only thing I’m meh on is the shrines but that seems to be everyone’s opnion. Other than that, its a fantastic game, still at the top of my list and the top of my heart. 

2. Skyward Sword: STOP BEING SO MEAN TO SKYWARD SWORD GUYS ITS A FUCKING MASTERPIECE I LOVE IT SO MUCH no but seriously Skyward Sword is sooooo special to me. It just... fills me with so many raw emotions in a way that few other video games can. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, it makes me experience its beautiful, tragically simple story on such a lovely level. I love how it plays, how many items it gives you, how it has the BEST dungeon design in the whole series, I love Skyloft, I love Groose and Ghirahim and Fi and how this game probably has my favorite Link in the entire series (he’s so precious your honor I love him). It’s soundtrack is godly, everything about it is beautiful. If you dislike this game, you dislike fun and joy. I don’t make the rules. 

3. Wind Waker: Always in my top three, Wind Waker is such a delight. It also falls into the category of games that hit me in the feels. Its story is so simple yet it hits so right, its art style is simply lovely, exploring the sea is great, the dungeons are great, this version of Link and Zelda (or should I say Tetra) are great, the MUSIC IS SO GREAT (my favorite soundtrack in the series imo). I just love it so much. Only reason is isn’t #2 is bc I got hit so hard in the feels by SS this time around ahahah. 

4. Ocarina of Time: I know, very traditional. But the more I think about it, the more I just have to put it in the top five. OoT is just so fundamentally... Zelda, ya know? It established so much of what I love for the series, the lore, the asthetic, the gameplay, all things the series still follows to this day. Its story is honestly one of my favorites in the series, its music is just iconic in every way, its dungeons are (mostly) good, its overworld is really fun to explore, I adore it, always have since I first played it on a shitty emulator when I was 12. 

5. Spirit Tracks: Ok So hear me out please. I know this is an insane take but... I fucking love Spirit Tracks??? Like a lot? I love this version of Zelda so much she’s so FUN and I love that she goes on the journey with you. I love riding around on my silly little choo choo train, I like the dungeons well enough and the music? fucking peak. Honestly I just... got so immersed in this one while I was playing it? It just hits the right spot for me, I don’t know what to tell you. It gives me serotonin. 

6. Majora’s Mask : So I actually used to really hate Majora’s Mask? Crazy, I know. But playing it again this time... I don’t know. Something happened. It just geled with me in a way it never had before. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a bunch of problems with it. The time limit stresses me out too much, the dungeons are fucking awful, the bosses suck, the music is kinda meh, but then also like??? the sidequests are the best in the series, Clock Town is the best hub in the series, the masks are fun to collect and play around with. The game is fun. I can no longer deny it like I used to before. I like Majora’s Mask. 

7. Link’s Awakening: So this has and always will be my favorite top down Zelda. I love how it plays and I love the setting so much. It comes across as such a cute little game but there’s this underlying layer of tragedy that just... hits so well. Its music is great, the dungeons are fun, the sidequests are fun. What can I say? Just a really solid experience all around. 

8. A Link to the Past: Fun fact, playing ALTTP for this marathon was the first time I ever beat it! And I really enjoyed my time with it! Its much like OoT in that its a series trend setter but for the 2D games and it does a great job of that! The soundtrack slaps, the dungeons are very well designed, the story is nothing to write home about, but the overworld is very fun to explore. I liked it a lot! 

8. A Link Between Worlds: I gotta say I was... somewhat underwhelmed this time around with ALBW. Idk what it was it just... didn’t do it for me? Don’t get me wrong, I still like it, but it really did just feel like a Link to the Past but with a few new mechanics thrown in. And those mechanics are fun and well executed, but... idk. Underwhelmed 

9. Hyrule Warriors: I hesitate to say this even counts because its not a “traditional” Zelda game. But when push comes to shove, as much as I like the fanservice and sheer silliness of this game, the gameplay loop is very... samey and boring? Outside of this and AoC I’ve never played another Warriors game so idk if that’s a series standard but still, AoC does the concept a lot better and if I had time to play it before ToTk I would but... eh. 

10. Twilight Princess: Ohhhhh boy I can see ya’ll freakin out now. Just cool it for a sec and let me explain. My most recent playthrough of TP was... fucking abysmal. I did not have fun with it. I hated the dungeons, I hated how dry and dull the gameplay loop in general was, I was very bored with the world and the music. Hell, the only things I actually liked in the game were Midna (of course) and surprisingly, Wolf Link? Idk I just thought it was a nice break from the norm. But outside of that, i dunno man, it just frustrated me. By the time I got to the final boss of the game, I was so burnt out and ready to be done with it. Guess my grudge is lasting even still.

10. Phantom Hourglass: Oy. I was dreading this one and I can safely say its just... Ok. Not good, not awful, just... Ok. The Temple of the Ocean King fucking sucks asss, and the world as a whole is generally umemorable but there are other things about the game  I enjoyed like, uh... Linebeck. He was cool. And... that’s about it. :| 

11. Legend of Zelda: I don’t enjoy the NES Zeldas. I think they’re too fucking archaic and cryptic for their own good. There I fucking said it. Leave me alone. 

[undefinedbehavior]

And that’s a wrap on Iron Blooded Orphans.

I won’t pretend to be surprised that the ending was bleak. Even still, a few deaths I absolutely would not have guessed at going in to the final set of episodes. When Orga took those bullets to save Ride my immediate reaction was “oh he’s wearing a bullet proof vest” but nope! We’re straight up killing the protagonists now, anything’s game.

These kids really did have the deck stacked against them from the start. Gundam always bears the theme of the pointlessness of war to some degree but IBO seems to hit it harder than ever.

I’m glad a few walked away. I’m happy they got their orphanage. Kudelia and Atra get to raise their adorable, murder-eyes sonic the hedgehog haired son. That was nice.

In the end Kudelia still has to play the politics game and play nice with the very person who murdered her friends. But in doing so can further her own objectives and help real people in need.

Hey, we got a real confirmed queer relationship. I was expecting it would be all subtext so it was nice to see that made so plainly textual. Of course one of the pair immediately dies, so ya know.

I’m still mad about Lafter ngl, that sucked.

Just thought about Lok again. lol. What an absolute tool.

When the iron masked man showed up in season 2 I was hoping it would be turn out to be Ein because that would have been hilarious. It wasn’t Ein, but then in a way it kind of was?? God that was so good. IBO is top tier when it comes to drama.

[letsplayballet]

alright, losing my mind about october 3rd in my persona 5 royal replay in 3, 2, 1, go!

first off, this whole thing SUCKS. hearing the vice principle talk about a dead girl and her grieving sister as "wastes of effort" is so infuriating i don't have the words. why is this school the absolute worst (but also why isn't is further out of the realm of possibility)

but onto the important bits that i missed my first run through:

starting off strong is this tasty piece of dialogue, bc that's the problem, isn't it? sumire *isn't* kasumi, even when she thinks she is. she's still anxious and unsure, still unsatisfied with herself to the point of having significant mental health issues (though sumire-as-kasumi is headed towards perfection-seeking overworked burnout, instead of her more typical major depression).

side note: the fact that maruki insists she's better off like this really shows that he thinks about pain and trauma very... shallowly? i guess would be the word? it's very surface level, instant gratification stuff. is she less actively suicidal? yeah! is she actually better? of course not! bc she is *still sumire* and still has those thought patterns and instincts that lead her to that mindset, but instead of having the tools to deal with those thoughts in a healthy manner she has an "i'm happy and perfect :)" mask that she feels she has to live up to. repression isn't healing. maruki do your fucking job challenge.

anyway.

so we get the keywords from her pep talk and a random couple, get sucked into the palace, and hunt her down to find her confronting what you THINK is her dead sister your first run, but is pretty obviously sumire herself on repeat plays:

this dialogue didn't make a lot of sense to me my first run, to the point i forgot it was there, but DAMN does it hit this time. her guilt over her sister's death, her complete inability to face it, is VERY apparent. sumire gets so upset over seeing maruki's cognitive version of her, and you really get the impression that she's not even sure *why* she's so upset. sure, it's her dead "sister", but we've already seen her brush that off pretty easily the first time we went to odiba. and given the headache she gets right after, it's pretty clear the real sumire is close to breaking out of the kasumi mask.

and when the shadow attacks the cognitive sumire, she goes down easy.

which is indicative of something maruki says in the third semester: that he thinks sumire is TOO WEAK to handle her own trauma. that the only way she can live at all, much less happily, is by being someone else entirely. that sumire *doesn't even deserve a chance to try*.

... this is NOT the post for my rant about maruki's god complex and how it undermines any "help" he's supposedly trying to offer, but these images are here just so you know it exists

luckily, sumire is able to fight back:

and i do think this is elements of the actual sumire coming through! i'm not sure if sumire's idealized version of kasumi would be fazed enough by criticism to get angry about it. and we know their promise to each other about gymnastics is important to sumire, especially as the only sister left to fill it. if i'm remembering her third semester confidant stuff right, it seems to be one of the few totally positive memories she has of her sister, even with how much pain constantly being compared to kasumi in gymnastics has brought her.

and these pieces of sumire breaking through the brainwashing are probably why she's able to awaken to a persona, even though she literally has no idea who she actually is (and thus shouldn't be able to confront her true self and get one). ESPECIALLY since her persona references the fact that she's not herself!

i did not manage to grab "if those really are the shoes you've chosen..." but that also applies, as does the fact that her hair comes down for her transformation (the way sumire wears it, instead of kasumi's ponytail) but is put back up by the end.

this got, uh. long. but the point is i love her dearly and maruki can go fuck himself.

[antibigotwhumpblog]

Crucifixion Pt.2

(Prev, Next, Masterlist)

Cw: Whump, Toxic Christianity, Mouth and Hand Gore

She might not have been able to move, but she could still feel it when he pounded the nail through her tongue. She forced back a scream. It began with the vibration of the metal against metal, then the curse the item held twisted the flesh inside the tongue tighter and tighter, and then the sting and tear as it slid through, and punched a hole in the roof of her mouth. He finally let go once the deed was done. Above all the agony the specific nail she had in her mouth was horrific. Her mouth hung open as she was paralyzed from shock. The man did draw a vial from his pocket. She resigned herself to his cruel intentions, but instead, he poured the children's tears over his fingers to clean her spit from his hands. As a human, he was physically insusceptible to the acidity of children's tears, but she could guess he'd apathized himself spiritually from the meaning of the substance as well. After he cleaned himself, the man motorized. He began to set up a large array of tools and weapons from the wall. She watched in her peripheral as she stared at the ceiling. She had nothing to be afraid of. Her tongue would heal just as probably as her wings would. They had regrown in the position the mortal had folded them into, but she had to hope they would be still functional. This man was nothing more than a human, and she was a mighty and blessed angel. He could make her cry by using pathetic, cheap bastard magick, but God served as her shield. The mortal's largest piece of equipment was a full-sized cross, except the peg leg had been severed. She could do nothing but watched as he placed a bucket of nails, and the same silver hammer next to it. Behind that, he'd unfolded a plastic table and displayed rows of sinful items she could not name. She masked her face like a sculpture. The mortal once again untied her ropes without touching her and allowed her to fall to the ground. Pain blistered around her ankles as her feet hit the ground, and she fell. The man picked a pocket knife out of his suit and glided the blade across her feathers. She tensed her shoulders. The mortal snapped the ropes off, and the lines scorched into her wings sizzled from the commotion. She tried to adjust them, but her wings wouldn't move. Her stomach dropped as she realized they had healed shut. She attempted to stand. The floor beneath her caught fire, and a beautiful orange wrapped its tendrils around her arms and calves. She shrieked and writhed back onto the ground. The fire died. She shivered from the miserable sting.

"You will do as I say," He instructed, "Kneel at the foot of the cross."

She looked up at him from where she lay on the ground but with the haunt of someone 100 feet above him. She looked at him with all the love for humans God placed within her soul. She looked at him with her master's terrifying holiness.

The human stared back without the fear of God, "I am your master now. You don't have a choice."

She hadn't moved, but the fire burst from the ground nonetheless. She held a scream in her throat, and the fire crashed over her back. Her whole body inflamed, it ripped blistering, firey paths along her skin.

"Go on! Crawl!" He shouted at her. His voice was low and angry.

She didn't have a choice. She gathered the strength to lift her arm and placed it outside the circle of fire. The cold air sucked a new pain out of her blisters, and she cried. She crawled as fast as she could out of the heat of the fire, only to find it followed her path along the floor to ensure she made it to the cross. She collapsed at its wooden foot. The human gave her no reprieve. He clutched onto her wrist despite her raw burn and fought against the slime as he forced her arms to stretch across the tallest cross leg.